


Ten Dollars (Better name coming soon!)

by TheAmazingJenLaurens



Category: Hamilton the musical - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmazingJenLaurens/pseuds/TheAmazingJenLaurens
Summary: No description yet.





	1. I

John Laurens never planned on falling in love again.

Especially not with the kid everyone knew as the "stuck up poor kid" of Princeton University.

John had known since the eighth grade that he was gay. In fact, he'd dated a British man back in tenth grade. The relationship lasted for about a week and a half. Since then, he had harbored no feelings towards any men.

That is, until he came.

Alexander Hamilton. An extremely intelligent orphan from a nearly forgotten spot in the middle of the Caribbean, he came to New York for one purpose: education. Alexander trusted no one, spoke only when he had to, and spent most of his time either in the library or in his dormitory. Alexander excelled in every class he took, which pissed off the other students immensely. Occasionally, he could be found sitting in the back of the bar with a pint of Samuel Adams and a book.

The first time John saw Alexander, he had only one thought running through his mind:

This one's mine.

John first saw him on the first day of classes at Princeton University. He walked through the large doors and pushed through the crowd of bodies, making his way to the gathering point. All of the incoming freshmen (including John) were swarming around a large board. On the board were everyone's dorm numbers and roommates, as well as their individual schedules.

Whilst fighting against the crowd of bodies, John spotted a tall, dark-skinned man with hair pulled back in a loose bun. Some of his curly hair had fallen out of the bun and hung against the back of his neck. He held a stack of books close to his chest as he made his way through the crowd.

John thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't match the face with a name, and soon he gave up. He finally made it to the board and searched for his name. Jackson, Jay, Johnson, Jordan, Kay, King, Kirk, Knox, Krause, Krueger. . .John went down the list of last names until he found his.

Laurens, John. Rm. 408, Floor 3. Roommate: Lafayette, Gilbert.

John pulled his schedule off the board and made his way to the main office. He found it without much difficulty. When he walked in, he was greeted by a woman dressed in a professional uniform consisting of a tight black midcalf-length skirt, shiny black heels, and a black blazer. Her platinum hair was pulled back in a tight knot.

"Name, please?" she said. Her voice was very high-pitched.

"John Laurens," John answered, and the secretary typed his name into the computer.

"Laurens, John," she said without looking up. "Room 408. Third floor. Here is your identification card."

She handed him a small white card on a thin black lanyard. Then she held out a small key on a chain and said, "This is your room key. Do not lose it." She emphasized the last sentence with such ferocity it made John flinch slightly.

"Yes ma'am," he said, and walked out of the office. John strung the lanyard around his neck and set off to find his room. Up two flights of stairs and through a few hallways, and John was lost. Nervously, he checked the time on his phone. 5:45. The incoming class of freshmen were supposed to meet in the entrance hall at 6:00, which gave them more than enough time to get to their dorms before the assembly began.

Just as John started to panic, someone gently grabbed him by his shoulder, making him jump.

"Hello," the dark-skinned man said calmly. He had a thick French accent. "Do you need any help?"

"Please," John said desperately. "I can't find my dorm."

"What's the number?"

"408." John gave the man the paper with his room number on it. He surveyed it carefully before nodding. "This way," he said.

John followed the French man through a few more hallways and eventually came to a stop at Room 408.

"Thank you so much," John said gratefully. "I'm John, by the way."

"I know," the man replied. "I'm your roommate, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. But you can call me Lafayette."

"Ah, that explains why my roommate has a French-sounding name," John concluded.

"If you guys are freshmen, you should be getting to the welcoming assembly."

John and Lafayette turned to see a man of average height, with shoulder-length brown hair and a serious look on his face.

"And if you're a freshman," Lafayette countered, "you should be headed there as well."

The other man scoffed and walked down the stairs. Lafayette followed shortly afterwards, but John stayed rooted to the spot. His brain couldn't process what he'd just seen.

"John?" Lafayette was in John's face. "Are you coming?"

John blinked and answered, "Yeah, I'm coming."

He followed Lafayette down the stairs, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened. By the time they made it to the assembly, John still hadn't figured it out. Eventually, he decided that he was just imagining things.

The assembly lasted about an hour and a half, and was mostly just the headmaster talking about curfew and classes and a list of do's and don't's. John got bored in the middle and started glancing around, looking for the student he and Lafayette met on their way to the assembly.

Then the crowd of freshmen started moving toward the stairs, hurrying to get to their dorms and talk with their roommates. John was caught by the current and lost Lafayette in the sea of bodies. Quickly, he made his way to the top of the stairs where they met. . .whoever he was. John made his way back to the dorm and unlocked the door.

When he stepped into the room, the first thing he noticed was that it was more than one room. It was a main room with two bedrooms and a bathroom. The main room had a little kitchen area with a refrigerator, a microwave oven, a small stove, a sink, and a few cabinets lining the walls. The living space was small but comfortable. There was a sofa that rolled out into a bed, a small glass coffee table, a dining table in the far corner on the right, and a few other little essentials.

John decided he would wait to claim his room until Lafayette came back, so he sat down on the sofa and read a book. (This may be a spoiler, but idk) At the part John was at, the main character is trying to keep his friend from preventing a major historical event because if that was changed, something bad would happen and the world would descend into chaos. When it came down to saving the lives of the people in the present and saving the lives of the people in the future, the main character couldn't let the people involved in the event die, so he attempted to prevent the event from happening. Fortunately, another of the main character's friends held the main character back and let the event play out the way it was initially supposed to.

The sound of the door clicking broke John from his book. He looked up to see Lafayette had made it through the crowd. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the sofa. A grin broke across his face.

"Whoever gets there first gets the better room," Lafayette challenged.

"You're on," John replied, returning the childish grin and standing. Three. . .two. . .one. . .

John vaulted over the back of the sofa and raced toward one of the bedrooms, just barely beating Lafayette to it.

"Damn you John," Lafayette cursed.

"They're the same size, god dammit," John countered, laughing. A moment later, they were both laughing about how stupidly childish and pointless the race was. But the laughter was short-lived, as there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," said John. He rose and went to the door. Opening it slowly, he peeked out and immediately started to internally panic. It was the student from earlier.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Yes, you can," came the reply. "Do you by any chance know a John Laurens?"

"Uh, yes. That would be me."

"Is that so?" he pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to John. "I think you dropped this."

"Uh. . ." John took the paper. "Thanks, I guess."

The man nodded and walked away, leaving John confused. He closed the door and went back into his bedroom, where he sat on his bed and unfolded the paper. It was a note addressed to him. He read through the note, wondering what in the world this note could be.

John Laurens,

If you would, and if you are able to, meet me in the west courtyard on Friday, just before the evening classes begin. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you privately.

~A.H.

John wondered a lot of things. He wondered why this person wanted to talk to him. He wondered what they wanted to talk to him about. He wondered who A.H. was.

He would find out on Friday.


	2. II

The day had come. Friday. The day John was supposed to meet the anonymous "A.H." in the west courtyard of Princeton University.

And he was nervous.

"Lafayette," he complained to his roommate, "I don't think I can do this."

"But if you don't," Lafayette said, "then you'll never know what this person wants to talk to you about, and we'll both die of curiosity."

John sat up on the sofa and looked at the French transfer.

He has a point, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered. John groaned and gathered his books, already wanting the day to be over.

Fortunately for him, the day did go by quickly. What was really eight hours of classes felt like thirty minutes for John. After his last class of the day, he decided to go to the cafe. He figured he could grab a coffee before heading to the west courtyard.

John ordered his usual, a chocolate caramel cappuccino, and sat at an empty table near the back. He sipped his coffee and continued where he left off with his book. (More possible spoilers) The main character had saved the world from descending into chaos, but the antagonist has moved on to another place to try and bring down. The main character is talking to one of his friends, telling him that he's going to the same place as the antagonist to try to stop him, and his friend says he will go as well. The main character, with much difficulty, tells him that he should go back to his own home instead, so he can work on controlling his hatred for the antagonist. (Just saying, I have read this book, as well as the previous book, and they're amazing)

John made it to the end of his current chapter and decided to stop there. He had already finished his coffee, so he put his book away and threw the empty cup in the trash, then made his way to the west courtyard. It was only about a block or two from the cafe, so John had no difficulty walking. Since it was autumn, the leaves were a range of still bright green to a deep red to orange. The view made the walk to the courtyard much less boring.

The trees scattered in the courtyard were just as bright and colorful as the ones on the way there. John scanned the area, searching for someone that looked like they were waiting for him. There were a lot of people in the courtyard, and none of them seemed to be waiting for someone, so John sat down under a tree and continued his book.

As he neared the end of the book, someone stood in front of him. John looked up from his book and was startled by the person standing in front of him.

"You're John Laurens, right?"

"Y-yeah," John stuttered, and immediately wished he hadn't, because he sounded foolish. He stood and said, "And you are?"

"Forgive me," the other person said. "But I'm the one who sent you the note telling you to meet me here."

"What's your name?" John asked, a little more forcefully than he intended.

"Alexander Hamilton."

The student that stood in front of him, the student he and Lafayette met on the way to the assembly, was the orphan from the middle of the Caribbean?

"I need you to help me with something important," said Alexander.

"What is it?" John said, trying not to sound impatient.

"John," he said forcefully. "Wake up, dammit!"

John was shaken awake by Professor Howe. Somehow he had fallen asleep during one of Howe's lectures on the different qualities of metals.

"What makes you think you can just fall asleep in the middle of an important lecture?" Howe asked angrily.

"Sorry, sir," John said guiltily. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't happen again," Howe spat.

As soon as he said that, the bell rang, signaling the end of class and therefore, the end of the day classes. John shot out of the room and made his way to the west courtyard. Save for a few people here and there, the area was empty. There were a few little tables made of a dark, polished wood. John sat at a table and waited for the person known as "A.H." For a few minutes, he sat there, waiting. Eventually he pulled out his book and read to the end, where he decided that he wanted something to drink.

As John was getting up to leave, he saw someone walk out of the building and into the courtyard. Average height. Shoulder-length brown hair, pulled back into a low ponytail. John's eyes widened as he realized who this was.

The student he had seen before the assembly was walking toward him, and John didn't know what to do. So he started walking in his direction. John wasn't why.

"John Laurens," John said proudly when they were face to face.

"Alexander Hamilton," the other man replied with no emotion. They briefly shook hands, and John struggled to keep from blushing. Alexander's hands were warm and soft, and he had a firm shake.

"What was it you needed to meet me about?" John asked.

Alexander sat down at the table, and John sat across from him.

"I need your help," he said plainly.

"With?" John replied, trying hard not to sound eager.

"Let me talk, damn it," Alexander snapped. John shut up instantly. "I need you to do something for me." He went on to explain how he needed to gain the attention of a woman that goes by the name "Eliza."

John had spoken to Eliza once before, when they were paired up for a project senior year. They weren't exactly friends, but acquaintances. John wanted to say something about that, but he didn't want to piss off Alexander.

"Do you have anything you want to add before I move on?" Alexander inquired.

"I was just remembering high school," John replied. "Eliza and I knew each other. Sort of. We were paired together in senior year, and I remember her saying something about how she liked guys with an extensive vocabulary and a way with words." He thought for a moment. "Maybe you could write her a letter or something?"

Alexander hummed. "That might work. I am pretty good with words." He smiled slightly. It took everything John had not to stare. He was just so. . .beautiful. John shook his head.

He couldn't be falling for Alexander. Could he?

"Hey, Alexander?" John asked while Alexander worked on his letter to Eliza. He was sitting on the table while Alexander sat properly on the bench.

"Hmm?" he replied without looking up from the page.

John leaned back on the table and said, "Would it be okay. . .if I called you Alex?"

Alexander looked up and scowled slightly. "No," he said coldly. "Until I think of you as a friend, you call me Alexander. Got it?"

That stung, but John nodded. The silence felt awkward, but John refused to break it for fear of breaking Alexander's concentration as well. However, he couldn't help but watch him. He looked so pretty when he was focusing. His brow creased and his lips pursed into a thin line. Some of his hair had fallen out of the ponytail and now framed his face. John felt his face get hot the longer he looked at him.

Eventually, the sky began to darken, which made it harder for Alexander to see what he was writing. John noticed this and pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight so Alexander could see. Alexander flashed John a small smile before returning to work, and John was grateful for the darkness because his face was burning again.

A few minutes later, Alexander lied his head on the table and sighed, closing his eyes. While he was resting, John read the letter.

My Dear Eliza,

I am unable to further confine my feelings. I have hidden them since the tenth grade, when I first laid eyes on you. You have the heart and the soul of an angel. Your kindness is what drew me to admire you.

Kindness is its own virtue. One who possesses it is truly a miraculous being in a cruel and unforgiving world such as this. And I believe you, Eliza, are in possession of the purest of souls, and of the kindest of hearts.

If you do not return my feelings, and if you prefer someone of greater financial status, or of greater social status, I respect your wishes, and will leave you be. But let this be known: I will love you for as long as this life will allow, and on into the next.

Yours,

A. Hamilton

John was on the verge of tears. Alexander said he was good with words, but he wasn't. He had a way of making something as simple as a love letter seem like all there was in the world was him and the recipient of the letter. He just wished he was the recipient, and not Eliza.

"What the hell do you think your doing?"

John jumped at the sound of Alexander's harsh voice. "Uh, I'm sorry, I, I just, I was curious as to, to what you had written. . ." John's voice trailed off.

"It's none of your fucking (Language Ham-Ham) business what I wrote in that letter." Alexander snatched it out of John's hands and glared at him. John felt like crying as Alexander packed up his things. He stormed back into the building, leaving John alone outside, with the night drawing close.

And John wept.


	3. III

John had been crying for an hour after Alexander left, and the majority of that hour was spent in the courtyard. Lafayette had come to get John since he had been gone for too long.

"What happened?" Lafayette asked as soon as they made it back to their dorm.

John sniffed and said, "I met him in the courtyard, like I was supposed to. He explained that he needed to write a love letter to. . . to Eliza." He wiped his eyes before continuing.

"So he wrote the letter," John continued, "and when he was done he leaned back, so I decided to read the letter and. . ." John trailed off and he started crying again. Lafayette held him close until he calmed back down.

"What did it say?" Lafayette asked.

"I. . . I don't remember most of it, but it said something about. . . how he had had feelings for Eliza for a long time, and how he thought she was really kind and pure. . . and it was just. . . it was worded so perfectly. . ." John's voice broke, and Lafayette knew that he was unable to talk about the subject any longer.

"Do you want me to make you some tea or something?" Lafayette asked. John looked at him with red, puffy eyes and nodded.

"Green tea with honey, please," he said. Lafayette nodded and went into the small kitchen area to make the tea.

As Lafayette worked on making the tea, John thought about everything that had occurred in the courtyard.

Alexander asked him to help him confess to Eliza.

John suggested Alexander write a letter to Eliza.

Alexander wrote the letter, and John read it when he was done.

Alexander yelled at him for reading the letter and stormed off.

John counted off all these things in his head, and each one hurt even more until he felt tears prick his eyes again. Alexander's angered voice was still ringing in his ears.

"It's none of your fucking business what I wrote in that letter."

John didn't realize he was crying again until he felt the tears running down his face. He quickly wiped his face as Lafayette came back with the tea. He took it gratefully and sipped it. He jumped a little when the hot liquid hit his lip, but it distracted him momentarily from the pain he felt inside. He blew lightly on the tea to cool it down, then took another, smaller sip.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lafayette asked, breaking the silence. "You know, now that you have something to calm you?"

John just stared into his cup. He didn't want to talk about what happened in the courtyard, but he knew he would have to eventually. And Lafayette was the best person to talk to about it.

"John?" Lafayette's concerned voice broke John from his thoughts.

"Sorry, yeah," John said. "Yeah, I can talk about it."

"Okay, so what exactly happened?"

John cleared his throat before speaking. "I went to the west courtyard, like he said in the note. I sat at one of the little tables and waited for him to show up. I made it to the end of my book and he still hadn't shown up. Then just as I was about to leave, he walked into the courtyard. I met him about halfway, and we introduced ourselves before getting down to business.

"He said that he needed help coming up with ideas to confess to Eliza," he continued, taking a sip of his tea. "And I told him that we had spoken once before, Eliza and I. . .I said that she mentioned to me that she was attracted to guys with an extensive vocabulary and a way with words. The way with words thing seemed to strike a chord with him, because he almost immediately started writing a letter to her.

"He wrote for a while, erasing a lot and having to switch out pencils every few minutes, but he finally finished it. He lied his head on the table and rested his eyes for a moment, and I took advantage of that moment by reading his letter."

John paused so Lafayette could comprehend what he'd said before continuing. He took a long drink of his tea. Lafayette was amazing at making tea.

"Are you trying to remember what the letter said?" Lafayette asked. Apparently John was silent for too long.

"Yeah, but all I remember was when he yelled at me for reading the letter." John sniffed again.

"What did he say?"

John hesitated slightly before saying, "He said, 'It's none of your fucking business what I wrote in that letter.' After that, he snatched up the letter and stormed off, leaving me to. . .to. . .I guess you know what happened next." John felt arms wrap around his shoulders and leaned into his roommate's embrace. He set the tea on the coffee table and covered his face in his hands. 

"I-I'm. . ." John sobbed into Lafayette's shoulder. "I'm so. . .sorry, for this."

"Don't be sorry, mon ami," Lafayette said, pulling him closer to his chest and stroking his hair. "That Alexander is an asshole for doing this to you."

That remark made John laugh a little through his tears.

"Can you. . .teach me some curse words in French?" he asked.

"Sure thing," Lafayette replied cheerfully. "What do you want to learn first?"

"Your choice."

"Hmm. . .okay. Say. 'va te faire foutre.'"

"Uhh. . .va te faire. . .foutre?"

"Yeah, you got it." Lafayette smiled.

"What does it mean?" John inquired.

"It means 'fuck you.'"

John snorted, which turned into a fit of either laughing or coughing, or both.

"Ready for the next one?" Lafayette asked when John was done with his hysterical laughter/coughing fit.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay. Say, 'personne ne donne deux merdes.'"

"What's with the long ass phrases, Laf?" John groaned.

"Do you want to insult people in a language they likely can't understand?"

"Yes. . ."

"Then stop complaining. Say, 'personne ne donne deux merdes.'"

"Ehh. . . personne ne donne. . .der. . .merdes?"

"Not quite. 'Deux,' not 'der.'"

"Okay okay, I got it. Personne ne donne deux merdes."

"There you go, mon ami!" Lafayette congratulated. John grinned.

"What does that one mean?"

"It means 'nobody gives two shits.' I think the lessons will continue tomorrow, at lunch. Okay?"

"Sounds good." John took his tea, which he'd forgotten about during his lessons, and dumped it down the sink, then set the empty cup on the side and set off for his bedroom.


	4. IV

John was sitting in the living area of his dorm, sipping his coffee, when there was a knock at the door. Grumbling, he set his mug on the coffee table and got up to open the door. At first, he thought it was Lafayette, back from the store with something for lunch.

But when he opened the door, he was surprised to find that it was not Lafayette.

It was Alexander.

"Umm. . ." John stammered. "Alexander? What. . .what are you. . .doing here?"

"I, um. . ." Alexander replied, visibly flustered. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to, to apologize. For my behavior, yesterday."

"I. . .beg your pardon?"

"When I yelled at you. . .for reading the letter."

"Oh."

Alexander ran a hand through his messy brown hair and looked into John's eyes. John felt the heat travel up his neck. Alexander's eyes were just so. . .pretty. They seemed almost unnatural, being a violet blue. John mentally tried to quiet his gay thoughts and listen to Alexander.

"Is there--"

John didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because Alexander suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and. . .

Then John woke up, sunlight flooding into his bedroom, signaling that it was morning. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to wrap his head around the dream. Still groaning, he got out of bed and went into the kitchen to get some coffee. Lafayette was already making the coffee when John walked into the main area.

"Good morning, John," Lafayette said upon seeing his exhausted roommate.

"Mornin'," John answered.

"You're lucky it's Saturday, mon ami."

"Why? What time is it?"

"Ten thirty."

"Seriously?" John rubbed his forehead, though he didn't have a headache.

"Yes." Lafayette passed John a cup of coffee, which John took gratefully and sat down on the sofa. The mug warmed his hands, and he took a sip. Perfect.

"Want to continue with your French lessons?" asked Lafayette.

"Sure, in a minute," John replied.

"Okay, well I'm going to get some more coffee beans. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

John thought for a moment, then said, "Nah, I'm good."

Lafayette shrugged and walked out the door, grabbing his lanyard from the rack on his way out. John smiled, realizing that his roommate had left his wallet behind. He counted off the seconds that passed until Lafayette came back for the wallet.

1\. . .2. . .3. . .

John kept counting, listening for the lock to click.

7\. . .8. . .9. . .10. . .

The lock remained silent. There were no footsteps in the hallway either.

15\. . .16. . .17. . .

John was worried Lafayette would never come back for his wallet. Nearly a minute later, he heard quick footsteps down the hall. Someone was running. There was a sound at the door, like the sound of metal hitting metal, and the lock clicked.

"I forgot my wallet. . ." said a winded Lafayette. He hurried to his room to get his wallet, then started back toward the door. He stopped.

"Am I forgetting anything else?" he said.

"Wallet, ID, dorm key," John counted the items on his fingers. "I think you're good."

"Okay." Lafayette was back out the door, and John was alone in the dorm once again. He finished his coffee and got up to clean the mug, when there was another knock at the door. He set the mug on the edge of the sink and went to answer it. The door opened, and John nearly fell back in surprise when he saw a woman standing there.

"Eliza?!" John said.

"Hi, John," she replied, smiling. Her voice was soft and light. 

"What. . .how did you find my dorm?"

"I saw Lafayette running through the hall and thought I would ask. He told me you had been feeling kind of down, so I wanted to try to cheer you up." Eliza smiled.

John realized then that what Alexander wrote in his letter was true, Eliza truly was an angel of God.

"Well, come on in, I guess," he said awkwardly. He opened the door wider to let Eliza in. She nodded gratefully and stepped into the dormitory.

"So, um. . ." John rubbed the back of his neck. "How've you been lately?"

"Oh, I've been fairly well lately," Eliza replied while exploring the living space. "I received a letter from Alexander at nine thirty this morning."

John was grateful for the counter he was leaning on, or else he would have fallen over in surprise. "You did?"

"Why yes," she turned to face him. "It was so beautifully written that I found myself in tears."

"I understand that. . ." John mumbled. There was an ache in his chest he hadn't noticed before.

"Anyway," Eliza said, "what's been going on that has you down?"

John hesitated. Should he tell her the truth? He knew she likely wouldn't mind, but what if she did?

"Well. . ." he took a deep breath. "I. . .I've been having. . .reoccurring gay thoughts."

"Isn't that normal for you though?" Eliza inquired, then instantly put her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, that came out completely wrong!"

"No, you're right, it is," John said quickly. "But you won't believe who those gay thoughts are about."

"Are they about Lafayette?"

"No, we're, like, brothers."

Eliza thought for a moment. "What about the guy you dated back in high school? Are you thinking about him again?"

"That dickhead?" John scoffed. "Not in a million years."

"Okay, I have one more guess."

"Toss it at me."

"Alexander?"

John felt the heat rising up to his cheeks.

"Oh my God, it is!" Eliza squealed, causing John to deflate in embarrassment.

"Please don't tell anyone, Eliza," he pleaded. "I'm entrusting this top secret information with you."

"Oh, don't worry," Eliza replied, smiling. "I don't like Alexander romantically anyway."

"Oh?" John sat up. "Who do you like?"

"Nobody, at the moment," she answered simply. She then checked her phone for the time and gasped. "Dammit, I'm late!"

"For what?" John asked as Eliza practically leapt for the door.

"I'm supposed to meet my sisters and brothers at the cafe at eleven," she replied hurriedly. "It's ten fifty-eight!"

"Bye then!" John called after her. She quickly waved and dashed out of the room, leaving John to his thoughts.


End file.
